


Bended Bows

by Elennare



Category: The Flower Fairies - Cicely Mary Barker
Genre: 15th Century, Battle, Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elennare/pseuds/Elennare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The longbows belonged as much to Yew as to the archers that wielded them, just as the arrows were as much Dogwood’s as theirs."<br/>Yew and Dogwood at the Battle of Agincourt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bended Bows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morgan (duckwhatduck)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckwhatduck/gifts).



> Thank you so much to my awesome beta bluealoe, who did an utterly fantastic job! Any remaining errors are entirely my fault.  
> Morgan, I hope you like it :) I really enjoyed writing it, you gave an awesome prompt.

High above the ground, drifting on the faint breeze, flew a fairy clad in green and red. Occasionally he would flap his wings, but for the most part he let the gentle air carry him back and forth, over the woods that faced each other and the armies camped between them.  
  
The Yew Fairy sighed softly. He had hoped to escape, for a while, the hopes and fears of the battlefield, but they were more present than ever as he flew above it. How small, how very small, the English army seemed against the French! How very few they were, to stand against so many. Even with the help fairies could provide, how could so few triumph? Yew shook his head. He had been too long away from his own forests if these transient events could trouble him so. In the leafy embrace of his beloved long-lived trees, time had mattered little; as the seasons turned, generations of men passed almost unremarked.  
  
And yet... the trees in the woods of Agincourt and Tramecourt below might care little for the fleeting human lives soon to be lost, but their cousins in other parts of both England and France had provided weapons for the men. When the archers drew their longbows, it would be yew wood that flexed and straightened, sending arrows flying at the enemy. Wood from his trees. Wood that he had grown and strengthened, guarded on the long journey, coaxed to bend and return without cracking or breaking. The longbows belonged as much to him as to the archers that wielded them, just as the arrows were as much Dogwood’s as theirs.  
  
At the thought of Dogwood, a soft smile appeared on Yew’s face, almost without his realising it. His constant companion throughout the long months. His only companion, almost - Acorn and Pine Tree had crossed the Channel to France with the ships, lending their magic to oak planking and pine masts, and many others had laid their blessings on the surgeons’ medicines, but only three fairies had followed the English forces in their march. Their queen the Wild Rose fairy, in her love for England, rode with King Henry V, and Yew and Dogwood accompanied the archers.  
  
Now Yew looked downwards, his sharp elven eyes peering through the gathering dusk for a sight of crimson leaves and bronzed wings, shining with the light of magic - invisible to human eyes, but oh! So bright to fairy ones. He couldn’t see anyone at first, then out of the corner of his eye spotted the telltale glow. When he turned with a flap of his wings, however, he realised it wasn’t Dogwood alone he had glimpsed. But why was the English Rose flying towards them? Curious, he descended to meet them.  
  
The three convened in mid air, and Yew and Dogwood bowed deeply.  
  
“Yew Fairy, Dogwood Fairy, well met,” she said, inclining her head in turn.  
  
“Your Grace,” they replied in unison.  
  
“I have sought you out, because tomorrow battle will be joined, and I would have you prepared for it.”  
  
“We are ready, my lady. The arrows are straight and true,” Dogwood replied.  
  
“And the longbows shall send them swift and sure on their way,” Yew added.  
  
“That is good to hear. I know it has been a long and weary journey, but the end is close at hand; tomorrow everything will be decided, for better or for worse.”  
  
“I hope the men will be up to the task,” Yew said quietly. “It has been many hard months’ march for them, and they are very few.”  
  
“Few can triumph against many, if their hearts are strong and true, and fortune is on their side.”  
  
Yew bowed his head, silently accepting his queen’s gentle reproof.  
  
“We must keep believing they can win, and hope they do the same,” Dogwood said.  
  
“Indeed. You should rest now, and prepare for tomorrow.”  
  
“We will, Your Grace,” Yew replied, and he and Dogwood bowed again as Wild Rose left.  
  
Dogwood turned to look at Yew, scrutinising his face.  
  
“What ails you? I know the battle ahead weighs heavily on us all, but it is not like you to be so despondent,” he asked quietly.  
  
“I... I do not rightly know. I was flying above the armies, earlier, and ours is so much smaller... I fear they will be slaughtered.” Yew slowly glided lower, heading for the treetops, and Dogwood flew after him.  
  
“You heard what our queen said. We have followed them all this time, we know they are brave and determined. It is far from hopeless, and they have our help - their bows shall not break, nor their arrows fly off course.”  
  
“I know, Dogwood, I know. But I also know that whatever the outcome, many will die and be buried here tomorrow. There are many soldiers here whose graves my trees shall never watch over.” Landing on a tree branch, he folded his his wings and leaned against the trunk, head bowed and arms crossed.  
  
Dogwood fluttered down next to him, and placed a hand gently on his. “I am sorry, Yew. I didn’t know you felt this way...”  
  
The other fairy looked up and forced a smile. “I didn’t want to trouble you... it’s nothing, really. I’m tired and despondent, and the world seems bleak to me tonight. I shall be glad when it is over, though, whatever the outcome. The waiting preys upon my spirit.”  
  
“I shall be glad too; it will be good to return home, to our own woods.”  
  
“It will be,” Yew nodded. He took Dogwood’s hand in his own, and pressed it gently. “I am glad you’re here with me, dear heart. I couldn’t have done this without you.”  
  
Dogwood leaned over and kissed him lightly. “Nor I without you, my heart’s root.” Spreading his wings, he added “Come, fly with me now. There is always joy to be found in the air.”  
  
Yew shook his head. “Later, with pleasure. But we should check the bows and arrows first, one more time.”  
  
Dogwood assented, and with a flutter of wings, both rose from the branch and headed for the camp.  


******

  
In the grey light of dawn, the pair of tree fairies watched from above as the English king deployed his army. Their keen eyes could make out their queen hovering about him. Unseen and unheard by his conscious mind, her words would nevertheless make their way into his thoughts, and aid him.

The archers were arranged in two groups, one to each side of the open land between the woods, while the knights and men-at-arms stood in the center. By mutual agreement, Dogwood and Yew remained together in the middle, from where they could swiftly reach either side. Both reached out with their magic to the wood that had once been cut from their trees, Yew ready to prevent any breaks and strengthen the bows, Dogwood to guide the arrows.

Men-at-arms hurriedly checked their weapons one last time; archers fingered their bowstrings; knights soothed nervous mounts. To the fairies, who had nothing to do but wait, the time until the battle was joined seemed endless. At last, it started. The woodlands rang with the clash of metal, with the orders of the leaders, the screams of the dying. The flying pair heard little of the noise, though; their beings were immersed in wood, hearing and seeing almost nothing, but feeling as if in their own bodies the bend and release of bows, the rushing flight and impact of arrows.

Bend... strain... snap back as the bowstring was released... Over and over, Yew felt the smooth motion as the bowmen loosed their arrows. Suddenly, he sensed a slight change somewhere, a bow that had not returned quite as it should. Nearly as swift as an arrow himself, Yew sped towards the left flank, seeking the source. There it was! Swooping down, he caught hold of a bow stave, feeling in his bones the hairline crack deep inside it. It was still small, and had gone unnoticed by the archer using the weapon, but would soon grow and break if left untended. Yew poured his magic into the wood, feeling it knit together again.

Close at hand, hovering above the thick of the battle, Dogwood followed the speeding arrows. It would have been impossible to track them all by sight. However, he had no need to do so, knowing in his very being where the arrows flew, and able to direct them - if necessary - by thought and magic. For the most part, he did nothing as the archers loosed their bowstrings, showering down a deadly rain on the French soldiers as they struggled through the muddy, narrow strip of ground. Only occasionally did he interfere, when a misaimed shaft was flying towards one of their own; then, with a surge of magic, he would turn its course away.

Not until the longbowmen, arrows spent, dropped their bows to join the hand to hand fighting, did the fairy pair perceive the world once more. Their part in the battle now over, they landed in a nearby tree and watched anxiously as the fighting continued below. Slowly, it became clear that the English were triumphing over their enemies. The combat dragged on, but finally the French abandoned the field in defeat. The battle was won.

During all the fighting, Wild Rose had remained at the King’s side. Occasionally, Yew and Dogwood had glimpsed her, a tiny, shining figure hovering near the man always in the thick of the battle. Now, with a downwards sweep of her wings, the fairies’ queen rose into the air and came to them.

“Yew Fairy, Dogwood Fairy, I thank you for the part you have played in this battle. Truly, the longbow archers’ fight will be praised for years to come, and you have well earned a part in that praise. Let your hearts be light now! The battle is won, and soon we will return to England.”

As the queen returned to Henry’s side, Yew and Dogwood took to the air of one accord, rising high above the blood-strewn battlefield in search of the Sun. The sky was mostly overcast, but here and there a shaft of light broke through the clouds. In one such golden stream, Yew paused, his wings catching the light as they swept up and down, holding him aloft.

“It’s over,” he said simply, letting out a deep breath.

Dogwood nodded, smiling. “It’s over, and we’re going home.” After so long away, the thought of returning seemed almost foreign to him. “It will be nearly winter by the time we return.”

“The land will be quiet, with most of the flower fairies sleeping till next spring,” Yew said thoughtfully.

“But the fairies of the trees will be wakeful; Holly and Hawthorn will be hanging out their berries, and Winter Jasmine singing from the walls,” Dogwood replied.

“It will be good to sit in our own trees once more,” Yew said. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see them; dark-leaved yew trees, standing tall and solitary in the snow. Suddenly, they seemed lonely. With a shiver, he realised that Dogwood’s trees and his did not often grow together. They had been thrown together on this campaign, but when they returned to England, would they still be so close?

“What is it, Yew?” Dogwood asked, noticing the shiver, and the frown that was etched on Yew’s face.

“Oh, nothing... I was just thinking... I suppose you’ll want to spend time with some of the other fairies, after being so long away,” Yew answered, trying to speak lightly.

Dogwood looked at him thoughtfully. “It will be nice to see the others, certainly. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, you know me... yew trees tend to grow apart, and we all take some of the nature of our plants.” It was true, Yew thought - he often stayed apart from the others, sitting in the branches, lost in thought and unaware of the passage of time. It had never seemed lonely before, but in these past months he had come to enjoy Dogwood’s company more than he would ever have thought possible, and the idea of doing without it was strangely painful.

“I suppose you’d like some time to yourself, away from a certain pestering fairy?” Dogwood’s tone was teasing, but there was a shadow of worry in his eyes. “Fear not, I’ll leave you in peace... unless you’d like me to come and bother you every now and again?”

Yew shook his head. “You could never bother me. But... please... do come and seek me out. I... I will be terribly lonely without you, dear one,” he admitted softly.

Dogwood took his hands. “And I without you, so let us not separate at all. I will visit your trees, and you mine - if you wish to, that is.”

“I think it a perfect plan,” Yew replied, smiling. Already thinking about the many beautiful places he could show his beloved, he pulled Dogwood in for a kiss.

From her place on the king’s shoulder, Wild Rose looked up as a shaft of sunlight lit upon the royal pair. What she saw brought a smile to her face, the first truly joyful one since the battle had begun. High in the air, oblivious to all below them, Yew and Dogwood embraced, the sunlight that glinted off their wings no match for the fairy glow that enveloped the pair.


End file.
